Silentium
by Ladypheonixquill
Summary: Silentium... Silence... We do not get enough of it in waking life. But only by listening to it do we find what we are looking for. SiriusOC Set in the Marauder years.
1. Prologue

Silentium means "Silence" in Latin.

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Silentium

This was born out of the Margarita idea, but I've developed it now, and the plot has finally formed in my mind. I have deleted the other story. Enjoy and please review.

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Prologue

She sits in the large armchair, her eyes half-closed, her hands resting on her chest. A small, tattered old book lies forgotten on her lap as she stares into the flames, her face deadpan and expressionless. Silence triumphs all around, even the fire makes no noise.

No one could call her pretty, but there is something interesting in her face nevertheless. She is tall and very thin, so thin you think you can snap her in two if you tried, with gingery-blonde hair that falls in messy curls just below her jaw, and a pale oval face. Her sharp, hawk-like nose is covered in freckles and her thin lips are pressed together in a stubborn way that shows she is strong-willed. Her eyes are not large, but long, like those of Egyptian goddesses, and light-grey, flecked with green. Most of the time they are heavily outlined in black kohl, but tonight they are clear and bright under white eyelids.

She is sitting in a small living room that contains only an armchair, sofa and writing desk. The fire is the only source of light, apart from the large golden moon peering in through the window. It sends a narrow moonbeam that rests on her legs, which are bare and stretched out before her.

A light breeze suddenly blows, stirring her hair, and snaps her out of her reverie. She looks up and stares at the moon, a slight shudder passing through her. For the first time, her face betrays emotion and we see a small tear slipping from the corner of her eye. It slides down her face and falls onto the yellowed page of the book, creating a stain. She doesn't seem to notice this, but continues staring out of the window with a look of some strange longing. Then she quickly gets up, walks over to it and pulls the curtains together. Thendraws her nightgown more tightly around her. She is shivering...

The door creaks and she spins round, startled. In the doorway stands a large man, a black sweater pulled over his pyjamas. He is thin, with a short beard and unkempt hair.

"Papa…" she says quietly, and for a moment she looks like a small child.

.In many ways he resembles her, the same hair and eye-colour, the same nose, the same face-shape…

The man walks in, holding two mugs of steaming tea. She smiles slightly and nods at him. He passes her a mug and sits himself down in the armchair, picking up the book that had fallen when she stood up.

"You're reading it again?" he asks, and there is a note of anxiousness in his voice.

She doesn't look at him, but sips her tea.

"I couldn't sleep…" she whispers.

"Another victim of the moon?" he says with a little smile.

She stares at him for a second, then replies -

"He doesn't deserve light…"

"He deserves peace," finished the man quietly.

These lines, though probably sounding like nonsense to us, meant something extremely special to the pair and brought comfort to them both.

There was a pause, when the man reached out his hand and put it on her shoulder.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

She nodded. Her conscious always pricked at times like these. How she found the strength to leave him each time, she didn't know. He was so alone, so vulnerable…

He reads her mind, and pats her head, as though she is a little toddler again.

"I'll be fine," he says. "I've got work, haven't I?"  
She looks up at him, scanning the lines of his prematurely-aged face. There are silver threads in his hair, and unless he smiles, his eyes looked sad.

She takes his hand in hers and leans her forehead against it.

"Poor Papa, poor, poor Papa," she repeats over and over, trying not to let the tears fall.

The man watched his daughter silently. Although she generally looks old for her age, now is one of the moments when her inner child suddenly shines through. She is growing up so fast…

"Papa…" she murmurs finally, lifting her head. "Papa, you have to finish it. _You have to_."

He sighs but does not answer. She squeezes his hand.

"You have to. For me."

He looks into her eyes, and they stare back, wide and pleading.

"For Mama," she adds quietly.

He lowers his eyes, then nods. She smiles and leans her head against his hand again. Then, in a voice barely audible, she starts to sing. And her voice seems to mix with the soft summer breeze, and the bright golden moon and crackling of the fire. It is a beautiful melody, and it seems as though we have heard it before, as though it was long forgotten. As though it came about when the moon was young and time was just being born…

Listen to the silence,

Listen and you'll hear,

What you did not receive,

In your living years.

Listen and you'll strengthen,

As your troubled mind,

Leaves memories of suffering

And pain far, far behind.

Listen and you'll learn,

Of things you never knew,

And long-awaited peace

Will finally come to you.

So close your eyes and listen,

To what is yours to keep,

And nothing will disturb you,

For I shall guard your sleep.

One word - Review…


	2. Chapter 1

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Silentium

Well, here's chap 1. Please review. Oh, and I own only the characters and magpies you don't recognise. Nothing else.

Chapter 1 Always Be On Time

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."

Swearing under my breath, I run into King's Cross Station. Its nearly eleven and I'm late.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit."

People are staring. Marlow squawks uncomfortably as his cage is thrashed about, partly used as a weapon to get Muggles out of the way.

"Shit, shit, shit…"

I really must look mad, with a cage containing a magpie under my arm, and rolling a trunk the size of a baby elephant behind me. Plus I'm talking to myself. Great.

Not bothering with a trolley and throwing caution to the wind, I hurtle through the barrier.. .

"SHIT!"

The train is already moving slowly from the platform.

I put Marlow's cage into full use and the people gathered on platform Nine and Three Quarters are sent flying out of the way to avoid collision. I rush up to the three-times-god-damned-bloody-Hogwarts Express and slide the door open. Throwing the cage on, I then try pushing my trunk. It's far to heavy. And all this time, the train is slowly departing from King's Cross…

"Here, I'll help you," says a voice, and I suddenly feel the trunk being lifted from my aching hands and then someone's helping me on board. Whoever the someone is, they've got very strong hands…

I take a deep breath and slide down the wall, clutching the stitch in my chest.

"Fuck…" I breathe. "That was close."

"You can say that again."

I lift my eyes. I know that voice…

The grinning face of Sirius Black is looking down at me from under a mop of floppy dark hair.

I gather all the swear words I know, Russian and English, and scream them through in my head.

Fantastic, I have just made a complete arse of myself in front of the coolest guy in school. No, wait a sec…

My gaze wanders to the boys gathered next to Black… The _four_ coolest guys in school…

Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, James Potter and Sirius Black are standing in the corridor, their mouths stretched from ear to ear.

Then I hear a whimper from above me.

Oh, god…

Dreading what I'm about to see, I slowly, ever so slowly, lift my head to look above me…

"BLYAT!" (A/N A _very _rude Russian swearword. Ed.)

My scream seems to rip the train apart. Compartment doors are sliding open, heads poke out curiously, I hear footsteps, voices, Marlow's alarmed screech, but all I can do is stare at what is dangling upside down above me.

Severus Snape…

His bare legs are flailing about helplessly, I can see his dirty underpants, and he's muttering something, gazing down at me with wide eyes.

"Welcome aboard the Hogwarts Express!" I hear Potter say.

"Potter, you stupid big-headed git, put him down _now_!"

I'm snapped out of my trance by a furious voice.

For the first time in the past two years, I'm glad to see Lily Evans. She's marching down the corridor, her wand raised, her face screwed up in anger.

"Let him go, Potter!" she's saying, her wand pressed against his chest. "And stop scaring people."

I'm finally starting to register what's going on around me. I hear laughter, jeers, mutterings…

I've just made an arse of myself in front of the _entire _school.

"Gella!"  
I turn around at the sound of my name. Then almost scream with relief.

Drusilla, my best friend, is hurrying up to me.

Quickly, I stand up and grab my trunk. She takes Marlow and we leave the scene at top speed, not even looking back to see what's happening.

We push through the students gathered in the corridor. Its quite an ordeal, as, of course, she _had _to have a compartment at the front of the fuck-fuck-fucketty-fucking train.

I slide open the door and flop down on the seat, burying my face in my sweater. I hear her shut the door and put down Marlow. I raise my hand…

"Just don't say anything, ok?" I command in a muffled voice.

But she doesn't say anything. A heavy silence follows, and I only surface when I hear a gasp.

I emerge to find Drusilla shaking with silent laughter on the seat in front of me.

I don't believe this…

"Very funny," I say in a murderous voice. "Absolutely fucking hilarious."

She makes hand gestures showing that she can't help it, before completely collapsing on her back, her face in her hands.

"Oh sod off!" I snap, getting up and lifting my trunk onto the luggage rack.

"Heeheeheeheeheeheehahahahahahehehehehehehehehe!"

She's actually rolling around in hysterics.

"Heheeheeheehee - I'm - hahahahaha - sorry - hehahehahaha…" she gasps, clutching her sides.

"You know, you could be at least be a little supportive," I snarl, picking up my all-suffering magpie and placing him next to me. "I have just suffered major trauma, probably with lasting effects, and all you can do…"

At the words 'lasting effects', Dru erupts into fresh bouts of laughter.

"Oh, come on, lasting effects, you?" she practically screams, writhing around on the chair. "Don't make me laugh!"

"You already are," I say, then reach my hand to take off my hat. Except that its not there.

Crap.

"Shit, I've left my lucky beret back there."

"Well, go get it then," she replies. There's a huge grin on her face.

"Go back _there_?" My eyes widen at how she could possibly suggest such a thing. Its like sending a man to his execution twice.

"Oh don't be a wimp," she rolls her eyes. " Its not that big a deal."

I stare at her in amazement, then snap -

"Fuck off."

She starts laughing again.

"Stop swearing, Gella," she says in between chuckles. "You know, when I heard you scream, I instantly knew it was you."

"Erm, it couldn't be the fact that it was in Russian, could it?" I say sarcastically.

"Oh don't start being moody," she sighs. "It could've been worse."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, like Snape could've dropped on you."

We both turn around. Black is standing in the doorway. And he's holding my lucky black beret.

"I believe this is yours?" he says, stretching out his hand. He's got that charm-the-pants-off smile on his face.

I stare at him. At these points in time, my mind usually goes blank. And my mouth goes dry. And I feel sick.

"Go on, take it," he says.

I slowly reach out my hand, then Dru stops me.

"Hold on, they've probably hexed it, knowing them," she says.

Black sniffs, imitating an injured air.

"I don't know how you could suggest such a thing," he replies. "So that's the thanks I get?"

I can't stand this anymore, I just want him to get out so I can breathe again.

I reach out and grab my hat.

Big mistake.

A dozen flapping bats hurtles out, flying into my face.

"O, dear, dear," says Black. "You really shouldn't keep them in hats, you know, tut tut."

And with that he's gone.

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Well, that's chappie one up! R/R!


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